A stutter of a Dream
by sarah-jess
Summary: Emmett can't figure out whats a dream and what he's actually thinking. OS, OOC. Kind-of Dark.


"Emmett McCarty! Get your ass down here! NOW!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Emmett chuckled as his mom greeted him with a kiss. He walked into a bright blue kitchen that he swore was a light charcoal a second ago. Brand new appliances lined the bottom of the walls and what looked like freshly painted cabinets adorned the top of the walls. It was odd...but familiar, and comforting.

He looked at the woman he kissed and smiled.

Emmett McCarty was a momma's boy in this instant. And only this instant.

In actuality, he didn't have a mother. And from what he did know, she sure as hell did not look like a model.

What he assumed to be his mom was a gorgeous, skinny, bronze-haired woman who seemed like she loved him. Emmett's mother loved his money. She loved her welfare. She loved her drugs. And most importantly, She didn't love _him._

His _real_mother was a crack head living on the streets. She separated herself from him as soon as he was born and asked him for money now and then. She wasn't important to him. He had never had a mother, and never planned to. Not even now.

He began to formulate that he _must _be in some sort of weird world. Everything was contradicting what he knew and loved, and didn't love somehow.

"Pancakes? Yum," He smiled wider and took a seat, fork and knife in hand. He licked his lips hungrily and dug in.

He was never up early enough to eat, and he never ate pancakes, either. He knew this was twisted. He knew this was wrong. He _liked_this. He liked it so much, he went with it.

He knew what heaven tasted like and he thought it was Rosalie. Rosalie Hale, the love of his life, the person he wanted to marry. The one thing that went, and was going right in his life.

But these pancakes were turning his edible heaven idea around. These _tasted_like heaven, _smelled_like heaven, and even _looked_like heaven. It was like putting his Rosalie into blueberry pancakes. Addicting and pure bliss.

This.. mother of his seemed to replace Rosalie. Slowly, and without notice. As if she was _trying_to replace his love with the love of a mother he never had. Something he didn't want right now.. and couldn't control if it happened or not.

Emmett finished wolfing down the pancaked and realized she was staring at him. Waiting for him to finish, or to turn, or to do anything in her direction. He smiled as he felt awkward and like he was being stalked. His mother walked up to him, and wiped whatever was on his face.

"Mmm," Emmett's mother smiled wide and him. She took the empty plate and piled another stack on. "I made these Rosalie Hale just for you."

Emmett dug in, and half way through, realization sunk in.

"What?" He said, mouth half-full and brain running at almost max capacity. "Did you say blueberry?"

He didn't believe what he heard. He couldn't. His mother made Rosalie pancakes? Did she know who she was? Was she just.._ genuinely _being nice, despite of what he observed?

He also said Rosalie Hale. Not blueberry. What he heard come out of his mouth was blueberry. He didn't even think anything about them. What was wrong with the attachment between his mouth, his mind and his hearing?

"No," his mother's eyebrows raised questioningly. "Why would I make blueberry pancakes? I made you Rosalie Hale pancakes."

Emmett's brain started to hurt as his stomach began to take the hit of the pancakes. They were good, they were filling, but they didn't seem to make him enjoy them much better. He ate them as fast as he could, savoring the heat of them. What he didn't realize is they were pre-mixed, with frozen blueberries thrown into it.

It wasn't genuine. It wasn't _right._

He didn't care, though. The pancakes beckoned him, taunting and tantalizing at the same time, as if he was was just caught in a trance. His eyes moved to the unfinished stack, and he attacked with his mouth.

"Wait a second," Emmett paused, and stuck the rest of the pancakes in his mouth and chewed it into a talk-able amount. "Who is this girl?"

He couldn't believe what had just come out of his mouth. What was he talking about? He couldn't get her _out_of his mind. He couldn't get her to budge from his thoughts. She was forever attached to his mind and could never pull away. He was at no time, in any way, ever going to forget her. Even if he wanted to.

He just couldn't.

"Blueberries?" His mother laughed, and Emmett almost fumed. Why was she confusing blueberries with Rose? Why was he? "Who are you talking about?"

Oddly enough, he laughed, too.

His mind battled his will, and his spirit battled his heart. He knew if this was the world now, he would have to move on. He would have to forget about blueberries, or Rosie, or whoever she was as soon as he possibly could.

He needed this fresh start, and was sure as hell going to take it.

"I don't know," He beamed, and grimaced on the inside. "Let's just make some more delicious Rosalie Hale pancakes."

Now, when he finally let go of her, was when the alarm clock went off, and he went back to his regular life.

Mom-less, new kitchen-less, pancake-less, and any other thing he would've had in his dream world.

But the fact remained- He let go.

He let go of Rosalie when he didn't need to.

He could've held on. He could've tried.

But, he didn't.

And thats when things started to spiral down.

When Emmett McCarty was fully awake, he would realize he was changed.

Whether for the better, or for the worse, he didn't know.

But all he knew was he was changed.

Forever, and maybe not for the better.


End file.
